“Apparently nothing serious. One of the footmen said she seemed to rally once her son agreed to leave with her.”
Judith almost choked on her tea. She coughed, and Epworth gently removed the cup and saucer from her hand as Judith settled, the cough turning into a low laugh.
“My lady?”
Judith straightened on the stool and held out her hand for the tea, which Epworth returned to her. “Men, my dear Epworth. No matter how old or wise they become, they will never understand the ability of women to rule the world.”
Epworth grinned and reached for a hairbrush. “And what are we wearing today, my lady?”
“The blue walking dress. The tourmaline one. With that feathered bonnet. If I can persuade Edmund to let me have the curricle, we will be quite the sight in the park this afternoon.”
“You will indeed, my lady. But you always are.”
*
Sunday, 17 July 1814
Embleton House, Mayfair, London
Half-past two in the afternoon
Mark growled, alow dark sound in the back of his throat. “You cannot leave a ball on the pretense of being ill, then saunter through Hyde Park the next afternoon as if all is well with the world.” He paced in front of the receiving room fireplace, his annoyance burrowing deeper into his gut.
On the settee, his mother flipped over her embroidery hoop to check a knot. “Do not be ridiculous. Of course I can. Any woman my age would have felt faint in the heat and nauseating crowd of that ball. I only needed fresh air to be right as rain.”She turned the hoop over again and continued to stitch. “Where is your brother?”
“White’s.”
“Again? He is avoiding me.”
“Of course he is. Your campaign to have both of us marry before the season finishes is enough to make any man madder than a hatter.”
“Will you please sit? Your pacing is doing the same for me.”
Mark dropped down on an armchair opposite her settee, tucking his legs in under the seat and leaning toward her. “You summoned me, Mother. What do you want?”
“As I said, I want to go to Rotten Row, and I want you to escort me. It is a beautiful day, and the wholetonwill be out. I want to take the landau and see who is promenading.”
“You mean you want to see which women might be out with a suitor and who might be with their chaperones. You want to make a list of eligible ladies.”
“That is one reason to go to the park.”
“I am not getting married.”
“Au contraire, brother—”
Mark, started, jerked around, then glared at his brother. “Do not do that,” he muttered.
Matthew winced. “Sorry.”
“Matthew!” Phyllida set aside her hoop. “So surprising for you to join us. I thought you had taken rooms elsewhere.”
Matthew sat down on the settee next to their mother, making Phyllida grab her hoop and gather her skirts a bit closer. “Do not tempt me.” He gave Mark a sly glance but said nothing to indicate that the two of them had, indeed, discussed hiring rooms for Mark—not Matthew—but for reasons that had nothing to do with their mother or their marital state. Or lack thereof.
Phyllida placed her embroidery on the low table before the settee. “What did you mean with that‘au contraire’?”
Matthew straightened as he glanced from Mark to his mother. His voice, slightly lower than Mark’s own baritone, carried a bit of humor in its tone. “After last night’s ball, the betting book at White’s has a wager on when Lord Mark Rydell will bed ‘a certain fair widow of renown,’ which all the wags are saying means the estimable and feisty dowager countess, Lady Sculthorpe.”
Phyllida’s eyes flared. “That damnable hussy!”
